Whiskey and Dental Floss
by LittleBouquetOfMerthur
Summary: When Sam gets jumped on a hunt and the wound gets badly infected, Dean has to try to nurse him back to health whilst battling his seemingly inappropriate and ever growing unbrotherly feelings towards his patient. Wincest. Please don't flame, it makes me sad
1. Chapter 1

_It's a short chapter. Sorry. Thinking of doing this in short instalments cause I'm lazy and should be doing uni work instead. Hope you enjoy!_

_Warnings: what I see as squeamish-y gross wound stuff. Also will be wincest, therefore incest trigger warning. Don't like, don't read. Please don't be rude or make obnoxious comments about it being "gross", they're consenting adults and rude people make me sad and highly irritated. Ciao xx_

* * *

It was supposed to be just a routine hunt. Sneaking in during daylight through the loft of some derelict old barn the vamps had decided to haunt, garrotting the heads off the two camped up there before surprise attacking the three below. Sammy wasn't supposed to get jumped by some newly turned kid after all – or so they thought – the vamps were disposed of. Sammy wasn't supposed to have a hunk of his left oblique torn out by the serrated fangs of some newbie. And for the love of everything good, Dean wasn't supposed to let his little brother fall and get debris in the wound as he pounced on the little monster.

It just wasn't supposed to be like this.

* * *

The wound was infected. Skin swollen taut and shiny red around entry, edges puckered and slightly green as liquid oozed from its fleshy residence. The ER wasn't an option, obviously. Cas wasn't answering his prayers. And he didn't think whiskey and dental floss would cut it, this time, but in this dinky-ass town all medical supplies were hoarded by the hospital.

Dean swore as he paced back and forth in front of Sam's bed. How could he be so stupid to let Sammy get hurt on his watch? He should have _known_ that that kid was tucked away under the haystack. He should've done something, _anything_, different, anything to stop his little brother from getting hurt.

He glanced over at the figure sprawled out on the scratchy comforter. Sam had stopped gushing blood a few hours ago on the drive back, but Dean hadn't anticipated an infection to take root so quickly, and to such an extent. At least he was unconscious for now…

Gritting his teeth, Dean knelt down next to his giant of a brother on the bed, bottle in one hand and needle and floss in the other. He delicately poured the alcohol onto the wound, ignoring the grunts and screeches it elicited, and commenced pushing the sides of the gash together.

"C'mon Sammy, work with me here," Dean grunted, eyes squinted in concentration.

Pushing the tip of the needle through Sam's skin was a horrific experience, even of itself. The taut skin resisted intrusion, and when it finally went through it did so with a shluck that had him cringing and his patient screaming, even in his state of unconsciousness. Tight, neat stitches had the wound pulled together, but Dean was worried. At the rate of swelling, they might just burst open and there'd be a whole new slew of shit to deal with. For now, he could only feed Sam anti-inflammatories and the strongest over-the-counter painkillers he could get at the candy store.

Watching like a hawk, Dean sat back to wait. And wait. And wait.

* * *

Sam was burning up, hot, dry skin radiating heat across a two foot radius, and Dean was running ragged trying to make sure the clothes were cool, unaided by the fact that within 30seconds they'd be hot to the touch. Sam's stitches hadn't yet burst, but the swelling hadn't gone down and it was leaking some yellowy-greenish liquid that reeked.

Dean pre-empted the inevitable and removed the stitches, sights set on draining the pus oozing from his brothers back. Making creative use of the various trashcans and enclosed shower caddy's provided by the motel, these various receptacles were soon filled with the discharge.

Finally, the liquid seemed to have stopped, and the skin not quite as shiny and swollen as it was, Dean poured more whisky on the site and sutured it back up.

* * *

12 hours passed and Sam's fever still hadn't broken, though the putrid pus hadn't returned. Dean was still poking a potent mixture of all sorts of medical goodies down Sam's throat when possible, but there was little else left to do but sit and wait for his brother to wake up.

* * *

_Please review~_


	2. Chapter 2

_Ciao lovelies. Second short instalment of whatever this is! Yay! Seriously though I have commitment issues already, is that bad? Oh well. Enjoy~_

* * *

The fever broke, and Dean nearly cried in relief as Sam was finally able to relax a little. His brother still hadn't woken since he'd passed out in the back of the Impala two days ago, but the stress of battling everything coursing through his body had had him wound up tighter than a bow.

Dean sat against the headboard of Sam's bed, running a hand through long brunette locks as he crooned along to the radio. It wasn't the first time an infection had set in this bad, but it was the first in a long while and it'd had him in a panic.

"You scared me real good, Sammy. Could'a gone either way with you." Dean sifted his hand gently through Sam's hair, admiring the softness of it and smiling at his brother's relaxing into the touch. He picked up the tune once again and quietly sang along, serenading the still room fondly.

Dean felt Sam stir on his lap and looked down in surprise, grinning when he saw his brother's face squidged up as he woke.

"Nghhh….Dean?"

Sam's voice was raspy and wavering, sending refreshed waves of concern over Dean.

"Hiya Sammy, you had me worried." He gently got off the bed and all but shoved a glass from the nightstand in Sam's face. "Drink."

Sam gave him a bitchface as he downed the water greedily, moaning in relief. The corner of Dean's mouth twitched in amusement as the glass was shoved right back, a silent plea for a refill.

"How're you feeling, baby boy? Try not to move too much, I've only just got your stitches to do their job."

He handed the groaning Sam, who had been trying to sit up, the glass of water, not so gently pushing him back down onto his stomach.

"Feel like shit. What'd you do to me?"

Dean paused, hurt flitting through and knocking him around the head. "What I _did_, you ungrateful jackass, was fix your pus-oozing love bite from that fang you were stupid enough to get bit by." His voice had slowly risen in volume, to the point where Dean was near shouting by the end. How could Sam pin his suffering on Dean, when Dean himself had suffered so much just to keep his little brother breathing?

He had to stop as he took note of the effect his words had on Sam. The giant man was resting as far up on his elbows as his condition allowed, reaching out with one hand to grasp onto the only part of Dean he could reach.

The indignant fight flew straight out of the older brother as Sam's twisted humour registered, hastening to cough out a reluctant "sorry" before turning away.

"I'm just glad you're okay, kiddo."

* * *

Sam had been getting progressively better over the following few days, swelling down and oozing liquids kept to a minimum. He'd even, Dean noted with satisfaction, resumed his customary geeking out over lore books 'just for fun'.

It was hard, though. Sam's body was still so weak, infection not totally fought off and his immune system was in overdrive keeping it at bay. Now and then Sam would just drop in a dead faint, Dean left to lunge to his rescue. And boy, if he wasn't heavy.

It was after the second drop in as many hours that Sam remained out cold for longer than usual.

Dean was freaking out. Sam'd been asleep for 16 hours straight, whereas the longest previously had only been 20 minutes. Nothing he did could wake him up, and if he was being honest, Sam reeked of sweat and blood and that sickly scent only putrid flesh gave.

The particular motel room they were staying at afforded the luxury of two (two!) wheelie chairs stationed at the desk, as well as a decently sized shower/tub combo utility. It had taken some manoeuvring and a significant amount of grunting, but Dean had managed to transport his comatose brother onto the chairs, and then into the basin of the now full tub.

"Whew. Okay Sammy, let's get you cleaned up."

He grabbed a washcloth and gently started scrubbing his brother's broad shoulders, admiring the girth and their aesthetic definition. Purely platonically, of course, everyone knew Sam looked good; it wasn't weird for Dean to take notice and maybe linger along the more bulky areas…right?

Humming along to the radio just as he'd done the other day, Dean set about carefully washing Sam's hair, enjoying its silken feel and fondly tugging at the overly long strands. Truth be told, although he often teased him about his long hair, Dean secretly loved it, especially when he got to touch it. Sadly, there were few reasons that excused that kind of behaviour, so it morphed into a guilty pleasure he planned on capitalising upon during his term as Nurse Dean.

The water grew tepid, then cool against his skin and Dean realised he'd spent the better part of an hour massaging Sammy's scalp and toying with his drying locks. During his last indulgence, the reclined unconscious figure beneath his fingertips groaned, and Dean jumped back as if he'd been stung, terrified of being caught doing something that could be – not that it was! – seen as _unbrotherly_.

* * *

_Yeah. Okay. So there's that. My verbal cohesion isn't too fantastic, things just kind of come and go in my head and nothing really makes sense and isn't transmitted to words very well. Please review, tell me what you think _


	3. Chapter 3

_Haven't completely given up, but the whole daily update thing is clearly not going to happen. Sorry. Life's too full of angst and heartbreak at the moment for it to be productive enough to do that. Here's the next chapter though, hope you like it. Please review xx_

* * *

Dean waited with bated breath as Sam stirred in the cool water of the bathtub, horrified at the thought that he would be freaked out at the fact that Dean had been playing with his hair, let alone bathing him in the first place.

"De…Dean?" Sam rasped, eyes blearily blinking slowly up at him. "What's going on?"

Air whooshed out in a rush, and Dean's terror turned to heartbreak at the sight of his injured brother slumped over in the tub. "You passed out again, Sam, for nearly a whole day. We gotta get you fixed up 'cause this ain't healing nicely."

Sam groaned in response. "Why am I in the bath?"

Dean fidgeted a little with his slightly damp plaid shirt. "You, uhh…you were kinda stinkin' out the room, Sammy. Had to get you cleaned up before they sent in animal control to see what died in here."

That got a snort out of Sam, and Dean felt fuzzy inside that even if it was an awkward situation and his brother was pretty badly hurt, he could still get a laugh out of him.

"C'mon buddy, let's get you dried off and back in bed."

Fighting the urge to let his eyes or hands linger as they had been (platonically, of course, reassurance that he was safe…), Dean helped to hoist Sam out of the water and wrapped him in a towel, smirking at the indignant look he was being sent.

"Don't give me that face Sammy, not my fault if you're girling around fainting everywhere. I don't want you keeling over and cracking your head open on the bath, cause that would just be embarrassing."

Pride evidently wounded, Sam conceded to Dean's manhandling and proceeded to bombard the other with questions about how he'd been treating the wound and heart beats per minute while he was out and if he could bring him a pizza or three to eat because he was _starving_. Dean, personally, enjoyed the questions, as it meant his brother was fine and shit, yeah he was really hungry.

Fed and watered (well, beer-ed), Dean fussed over Sam, getting more and more comfortable in his role as Nurse Dean. For his part, Sam was somewhat exasperated at the attention, and slightly fed up with the constant pandering.

Bandages were changed, pillows fluffed, and Nurse Dean gently rearranged Sam's long limbs on the bed. With a last, tentative pat of his head that had Sam rolling his eyes, Dean ordered Sam to sleep and resigned to perching on his own bed.

"Hey Dean?"

He grunted in response, pretending to be absorbed in cleaning the guns.

"Weird question, but…were you, uh, touching my hair?" The smirk and barely withheld amusement was evident in Sam's voice.

Dean froze. Coughing, he spluttered, "Just, uhh, checking for nits, Sammy. Hair's gettin' so long 's ridiculous. Go to sleep."

And with that, Dean flung himself into his pillow, fully dressed, and tried to force himself into unconsciousness.

On the other side of the room, aware of Dean's obvious lie and secretly pleased he'd revealed his tender side by playing with his –yes, admittedly long- hair, Sam smiled slightly as he once again fell asleep.

* * *

"Hey Dean can we go do something today?"

Dean looked up in surprise. "What, like a case? Don't think you're quite ready for that." And he was right. Sam loomed above where Dean was sitting at the room's desk, but he held himself guardedly and was still hobbling somewhat from the pulling in his back.

Laughing, Sam shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "No, not a case,", he said, mouth twisting awry as he turned away. "Don't worry about it."

"No no Sammy we can go do somethin'. Just didn't want you thinkin' I'd let you do anything fun like getting' beat up by some more fangs." Dean put just enough lilt in his tone so his brother would know he was joking, but the worry still shone through clear as day. No way in hell was he putting Sam at risk until he was a month beyond completely healed.

"Oh…uh…thanks, I guess. Why don't we go see a movie or something? We haven't seen anything not on pay-per-view for months."

Dean's eyes lit up. "A movie! Great! I'll get my jacket and the car, you…you take care of that situation you got going there, eh? You look like a hobo." With a wink, Dean jauntily exited their motel room leaving an indignantly gaping, decidedly shaggy Sam behind.

* * *

They pushed out of the cinema doors, laughter tears streaming down Sam's face as Dean angrily swiped at the ones dripping down his own. "It's _not funny_, Sam! Allergic reaction or something, might've been a cat in the theatre, or, or maybe I'm just allergic to sap!"

Sam snorted. "Mhm. Yeah okay buddy. You want a tissue, or would you rather the whole box? Or did you just want me to hold your hand and cuddle you while you drive?"

Dean turned a beet red. In all honesty, he wouldn't mind that, the contact. Feeling his brother's large, warm body all wrapped up in his, limbs entwining and breathing his scent…Wait, what? No! No no no! This is _Sam_, not some other person he could feel attracted to. Male or female didn't really matter; he'd appreciated both forms, but his _brother_? Clearly he needed to get out more. But in the meantime, Sam was waiting for a response.

He snorted huffily and told Sam explicitly what he could do with that hand and slammed into the car, sneaking peeks out of his periphery at the moose fitting himself into the passenger seat, satisfied smirk in place.

"Dunno why we had to see a chick flick anyway, could'a seen somethin' else…" he mumbled, revving the engine.

"Dude, it was either that or some kiddie movie. Small towns only like this don't have many screening options, y'know. Ooh hey, could we stop by the library for a sec? I want to check something out."

Grunting his assent, the pair swung into the turn off and climbed out.

* * *

Down in the dusty rows at the far back, Sam had his nose buried in a book whilst Dean leant against the stacks whistling _Hey Jude_. Maybe he was just a little bored, but he found it kind of cute how the corners of Sammy's mouth would twitch into a smile whenever he got to the chorus.

As an experiment – purely out of curiosity, no extenuating non-platonic incentives -, Dean sang the next chorus softly, facing just enough away from Sam that he wouldn't notice sneaky side looks.

Sam's head snapped up and he stared in wonder at his brother, keenly listening to the tune. Dean had to force himself to not smile in response, pretending to ignore his brother and carry on singing til the end.

When he'd finished, he glanced over at Sam questioningly. "You okay, dude?"

"Y-yeah…just…you used to sing me that as a lullaby when we were kids." Sam's voice caught in his throat.

Dean smiled. "Yeah, I guess I did."

"You should sing more often, you seem to like it."

_Only 'cause it seems to make you happy, Sammyboy._

* * *

_Woops, have I really been MIA for this long? I'm so sorry! Uni exams and the casual getting my poor little heart ripped from my chest…the usual. Please review to fuel my motivation!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Sincere apology for the long hiatus-ish thing. Thank you to the kind souls who reviewed, you guys are fab._

* * *

Honestly, this was getting out of hand. Sure, it didn't happen often, but enough to make Dean question himself. Clearly he needed to go out to what passed as the nightlife here in the middle of nowhere, because even very occasionally eying off Sammy indicated he needed to get laid. And so, Dean set out on his mission, groomed to perfection and charming smile in place, ready to woo whichever body fit his fancy or at the very least, get smashed.

Drinking himself dizzy at the local pub, Dean encountered several lovely ladies, but didn't find whatever he was looking for, much to his drunken befuddlement.

He'd near but given up when the bored waiter slid him a fresh drink with a nod to a figure at the end of the bar. Raising the glass in cheers, Dean downed it and went to thank the guy.

He was decent enough, Dean supposed, tall with dark hair and brown eyes. It didn't really hurt that he was clearly interested, buying several rounds for him and chatting him up.

"Why don't you thank me by takin' me home, eh?" came the eventual husky invitation, hooded eyes staring out from under unruly hair. _Sam's back at the place… _he thought, not wanting to disturb him. Clearly sensing his hesitation, his new 'friend' leered, asking instead if he'd like to go back to his place, instead. Relieved, smirked and started walking away.

"Well, are you coming?" he grinned over his shoulder at the stranger.

* * *

_Ughh, not my best idea_, Dean moaned, stumbling back up the motel steps and making a feeble attempt at knocking. _Next time I bang a random hot guy, 'm gonna actually make it back to their place and not fuck in their shit car. M'poor back…_

The door swung open abruptly, and Dean barely stopped himself from face-planting on the welcome rug. "Heyyyyya Sammy," he slurred out, grinning toothily at the grouchy spectacle of his brother. "Wasrong?"

"Where the hell were you? I've been worried sick!"

"I've been out, m'boy, drinkin' 'n' getting' laid." With that he tried to wink, but that made his head swim too much and he had to sit down. "Why're you still up, huh? Thought you were sick."

Sam crossed his arms and glared. "How am I supposed to sleep when you disappeared without a word as soon as we got back?"

Dean sat down on the closest bed and pondered this for a second. "I 'spose I did, didn' I?" Sam pushed his hair off his face, with Dean zeroing in on the action. "It's cause o' your hair, Sam. It's long, 'n' it looks soft, 'n' I wasn' checking for lice I was checkin' if it really was that soft 'n' it is… 's just really pretty…" he petered out slowly, getting more and more delirious as he lost control of what he was saying, oblivious to Sam's thoughtful expression. Eventually, he slumped over, asleep on Sam's bed.

* * *

He woke up to a pounding headache, general nausea and a thick, fuzzy coating on his tongue that made it feel like he'd swallowed a fistful of cotton balls. Groaning, Dean rolled over and rubbed his face against the pillow, inhaling deeply as he caught the scent of Sam wafting off it.

"Morning," came the too loud voice of his brother startling him from his actions. Cracking open one eye, he spied through the too-bright haze a smirking Sam, who proceeded to rattle around as noisily as possible.

"Sam could you just not right now please?" Dean moaned, shoving his face deeper into the pillow.

A huff of annoyance was heard and then the bathroom door slammed, and Dean settled back into oblivion.

* * *

"Dean, get up."

Sam was shaking his shoulder. Deciding he was now not too hungover to want to die, he sighed. "What?"

"I want you stellar company, obviously." Sam rolled his eyes, tossing a ball of clothes at Dean's head. "Seriously, get up. I'm starving and sick of this place. Let's ditch town."

Tugging the relatively clean shirt over his head, he glanced sideways at Sam, grinning. "But what if my _friend_ misses my stellar 'company', eh?"

Sam merely looked extremely annoyed and impatient. "Jeez, tough crowd," he grumbled.

* * *

Two weeks later sun was setting and they were just pulling into a motel for the night when Sam finally said something.

"You going out again tonight?"

"Mm…probably," came Dean's reply as he hauled their stuff out of the boot. "Might hit up that place we saw coming in."

Sam exploded. "Seriously, you're going out again? I'm getting real sick of waiting up for you to stumble in blind drunk every night from some dinky bar reeking of booze and sex. And you're such a jerk when you're hungover, snap the hell out of whatever funk you're in. My side's fine now, it's time to start up with the cases again. People are _dying_."

Rant over, Sam stormed away into the reception, grabbing a key from the slightly frightened receptionist and slamming into their room. Mildly hurt, Dean reluctantly followed.

He dumped the bags in the doorway and leant against the frame. "Look, Sam…" he started, tentative about broaching the subject.

Sam sighed, burying his head in his large hands. "Just…forget about it, okay? Go have fun."

Feeling helpless and extremely guilty, Dean left for the bar, looking for someone to bang who could make him forget about his brother, if only for a little while.

* * *

At the bar, he couldn't get Sam out of his head, his brother's words reverberating around til he couldn't take it any more. Dean pushed the hand of the lady he'd been chatting to off his knew, making up some feeble excuse as he escaped. He needed to man the fuck up and go and make peace with Sam.

The drive back seemingly took forever, but when he pulled into the parking space, it wasn't long enough. What would he say? _Oh hey Sam, you know how I've been sleeping around being a real boozy libidinous twat? Yeah, basically it's all cause I'm having crazy weird feelings about you that's not normal and I'm trying to drown them out_. Dean snorted. _Yeah, that'd go over well._

With a groan he gathered his courage and exited the car, quietly letting himself in with the spare key he got from reception. Sam was on one of the beds, lying awake on his back.

"You're home early," came the cold statement from the usually warm man.

Dean sighed. "Sorry for being a jerk, Sammy…"

"Yeah, whatever."

And with that, it took all his strength to not let his heart shatter to pieces at such a cold, swift dismissal.


End file.
